


Tread

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-01
Updated: 2015-06-01
Packaged: 2018-04-02 10:33:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4056772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elrond “teaches” Lindir how to ride a “horse.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tread

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for petalsofelrondir’s “Elrond seriously offering to teach Lindir how to ride a horse, Lindir pushing Elrond back onto the bed and climbing on to straddle Elrond’s lap, moving his hips back and forth grinding into Elrond’s slowly rising interest, he purrs to Elrond “Is this how you ride a horse my lord?”” prompt on [my tumblr](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

His armour’s been stripped away, but his cloak is still around his shoulders when he returns to his room. As soon as he steps inside, Lindir sweeps quietly up behind him, gently guiding his hair aside to reach for the cloak’s clasp. It’s brushed from Elrond’s body with such a feather-light touch that he could’ve missed it, were he in deeper thought. As it is, the day has been largely uneventful. He comes home to rest early. When he turns to watch his servant fold his cloak, he asks idly, “When will you wish to come on the hunt with me?” It’s a shame to leave Lindir’s pleasant company behind, but Lindir’s yet to make it down to the stables. 

He doesn’t answer right away. His cheeks flush an odd stain of pink for such a simple question, and he deliberately keeps his gaze on Elrond’s clothes. Placing the neatly folded fabric onto the table along the wall, Lindir slowly admits, “I... am not familiar with how a horse is ridden, my lord.”

Elrond merely lifts an eyebrow. At first, he wonders if he’s misheard, or perhaps if Lindir’s misspoken. But when Lindir turns back around, his gaze lowers respectfully, and he doesn’t correct himself. He doesn’t appear to be teasing. He seems to have meant it. Fortunately, Elrond can say, “That is easily remedied. Elves take well to beasts and beasts to elves.” He can hardly even remember when he first took to a horse himself—it was such a long, long time ago. He didn’t think there was a single elf in Imladris who _couldn’t_ ride, but as is so often the case, his attendant can still surprise him. He takes a step closer to Lindir, for though they’re now enclosed in his private chambers, it still seems appropriate to keep this conversation quiet. “Would you like to learn?”

Lindir parts his pale lips, then only lets out a shallow breath, while his cheeks turn darker. Finally, he murmurs, “I prefer to spend my time attending to you, my lord.”

Elrond almost chuckles. Perhaps he wasn’t clear. “I will teach you myself, if that will suit you. It is a very simple matter.” That makes Lindir’s eyes dart up. 

He asks, “Truly?” And he bites his bottom lip, as though he can’t imagine a great Elven lord humbling himself to help a mere servant with such a mundane skill. Lindir has always thought too much of Elrond. 

Elrond confirms, “Yes.” He wouldn’t make the offer if he didn’t mean it. Lindir must know that, though he still looks unsure. He hesitates, then takes a step closer. 

Another step, and Elrond is forced to step back, lifting both eyebrows in curiosity. Lindir schools his face into determination and takes three more steps, guiding Elrond back towards the bed. The back of his knees hit it, and he glances around, then to Lindir. 

He bends and takes a seat himself, perched on the edge and looking up at his attendant, so full of fresh experience. 

Lindir lifts his own knee to the mattress at Elrond’s side. He fluidly lowers himself forward into Elrond’s lap, scooting up against Elrond’s thighs and forcing his own robes to part down the middle as he presses closer to Elrond’s chest. He places his hands tentatively on Elrond’s shoulders, fingers catching in long, dark hair, so similar to his own. But everything about Lindir is newer, youthful and pretty and vibrant under the light of the setting sun, seeping in through the open windows. Voice a tad raspy, as it always is when he comes so close to Elrond, Lindir whispers, “Is this how I would mount the one I wished to ride, my lord?”

A shiver runs instantly down Elrond’s spine. Lindir’s flush has gone quickly from cute to _sensual_ , his parted lips a vivid temptation. Once, Elrond tried to resist such a wanton offering, fearing he was too old and held too much power for this to ever work. 

But years have passed, and feelings have remained, and Lindir has worn him down into acceptance: it would be crueler to keep them apart. He lets himself reach for Lindir’s hips, his fingers tightening around lightly-covered flesh, his thumbs stroking Lindir’s trim waist. Lindir seems to like the touch, as he does all contact from his lord, and he has a sharp, keening intake of breath. Elrond says, half too himself, “You will not have this help, even with a saddle.” Running his thin fingers through Elrond’s hair will not be the same as a mane, nor will a saddle grip him back. Lindir nods slowly. 

He places his hands over Elrond’s and gently removes them. It’s very rare for him to guide Elrond to anything, so Elrond is particularly sure to remain pliant, to allow Lindir this lead. He lets his hands be placed down in the sheets, and he lets Lindir lean over him, forcing him back. He bends, his back landing amidst the smooth blanket, his arms bent and his hands near his head, fingers intertwined with Lindir’s. For a moment, their faces are aligned, and Elrond thinks Lindir will give up this pretense and _kiss_ him.

But Lindir pulls away. He rises again, sitting firm atop Elrond’s lap, his fingers running down to rest along Elrond’s flat stomach. Lindir’s pink tongue pushes out to run along his lips, wetting them slowly. 

Then he gently rolls his hips forward, dragging across Elrond’s crotch, only to fall back again. He lifts his chest as he does so, letting the movement ripple through his whole body, as though a beast were really tossing him to and fro. Yet his movements are far too fluid and sensual to be anything but play. He rocks himself back and forth on Elrond’s thighs, grinding tantalizingly into Elrond’s slowly growing interest. Lindir’s own robes begin to tent. He lilts his head to the side as he moves, his hair spilling down his shoulders. His eyelids lower halfway, so that he has to peer at Elrond through his lashes. A small gasp escapes his lips before long, and then his eyes truly close, his face knitting together as he tortures them both with his movements. It becomes a strain for Elrond to be still, rather than to clutch his Lindir tightly and deepen this encounter.

Before he can, Lindir opens his eyes again, ducking his head and half gasping, half moaning, “Is this how you ride a horse, my lord?”

Something takes over Elrond. He joins the lewd game, purring back, “Such a sweet thing as you will be far more bruised between your legs by it.”

Lindir blushes furiously. He looks away, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. Breathless, he murmurs, “Not if my horse is as gentle as you.”

Elrond almost laughs. He muses quietly, “You have some cheek.” A smile graces Lindir’s lips. He continues his erotic movements. Even when they’re both straining through the fabric, he maintains the alluring rhythm. His face becomes steadily more lost, but he doesn’t falter. 

Then he lets out a languid _moan_ that he can’t seem to catch. He looks as though he’s about to reach his release, but just before he can, he stops. He takes a moment to breathe, then slips back over Elrond’s thighs and falls to his knees between Elrond’s spread legs. Elrond can’t help but ask, “Why have you stopped?”

“I am sorry, my lord,” Lindir breathes, his hands already returning to work. He parts Elrond’s robes, and Elrond lifts up on his elbows to watch his breaches being quickly unfastened. “I should not have made this about me; I should be spending my time attending to my master.” Elrond has no time to protest. His thick cock is exposed to the air a moment later, pulsing hot and hard in Lindir’s hands.

Lindir opens his mouth wide and dives right on. Elrond has to lift a hand to cover his own gasp—no matter how many times Lindir takes him into his mouth, it’s a blissful feeling. Elrond’s enveloped in a wet heat, slid smoothly over Lindir’s soft tongue. Lindir has done this so many times, yet never seems to tire of it. He no longer gags or chokes, no matter how much he takes at once. He pushes himself down the long shaft, even after Elrond has brushed the back of his throat and begun to go down it. Lindir drives right to the base. He doesn’t stop until there’s nothing left to take. His nose presses into the dark hairs above Elrond’s cock, his chin nestled against Elrond’s heavy stones. His lips are stretched wide to accommodate, more beautiful than ever. There, his eyes flicker up to where Elrond has risen, now looking squarely down at his beloved assistant.

Lindir hums happily, the vibrations of it ricocheting along all of Elrond’s nerves. Lindir squirms his tongue along the bottom, then hollows out his cheeks and _sucks_ , hard and fast, moaning around his mouthful like he’s savouring the taste. Elrond puts a hand in Lindir’s hair half to steady himself. He pets back through the dark strands, wondering vaguely what he ever did to deserve such a perfect lover. 

Lindir needs no guidance. He’s always served Elrond with everything he has, and that’s no different now. He sucks his way down the shaft until his lips are only locked around the head, and then he pushes back on again, taking Elrond once more down his throat. He sets into a smooth rhythm to match the one he rode Elrond’s lap with, still bobbing on and off of Elrond’s crotch. He sucks whenever he can, the cavern of his mouth tight though he’s careful with his teeth. The expression he wears is one of pure bliss, in the rare moments when he isn’t looking adoringly up at his master. 

Elrond says nothing. The game has fallen away, and now it’s merely the two of them enjoying one another, as they so often do, opening a prelude to the night. Elrond doesn’t buck forward, even though his body would like to. He simply sits and allows Lindir to prolong their pleasure as he will. He eagerly suckles Elrond’s cock with a steady vigor and magnificence to match any legend. There is very little Elrond would trade for these moments, when his world is simple and beautiful and consisting of only his dear Lindir. Each thrust of Lindir’s talented mouth is a confirmation of that. 

Finally, Elrond can take it no longer. His breath catches, and his fingers tighten in Lindir’s hair. Lindir takes the warning and returns to the base, staying there as Elrond bursts inside him. The hefty load spills right down Lindir’s throat, and Lindir swallows immediately, the collapse of his throat pulling Elrond further over the edge. Lindir drinks it all readily. He’s said many times that it’s his favourite meal in all of Imladris, and the look of sheer ecstasy on his face almost has Elrond believing it. 

Lindir doesn’t pull away until he’s swallowed every last drop. Even then, he licks his lips once Elrond’s cock has left them, falling to hang against his thigh. Lindir stares at the spent cock for a moment, then press forward to bury his head in Elrond’s crotch. 

He murmurs against the sensitive flesh, “Please, my lord. Forgive me for my insolence.”

Elrond’s too satiated to tease any longer, so he only promises, “You are forgiven.” He finishes petting Lindir’s hair, instead tapping at the bottom of Lindir’s ear to signal him to rise. 

Lindir pushes unsteadily to his feet, standing close between Elrond’s legs, panting hard and beautiful. His robes haven’t been parted, but there is a damp patch in them that tells Elrond he’s finished himself. It still amazes Elrond sometimes that Lindir can come from pleasuring him alone, though Lindir has often expressed that he finds nothing more fulfilling than serving his lord. 

Drawing Lindir forward, back into his lap, Elrond decides, “But you will still bear punishment: you will go riding with me tomorrow morning.”

Lindir smiles brightly. He dares to kiss his master’s lips, and Elrond returns the warm touch. When they part, Lindir can’t seem to stop smiling long enough to talk. So he only nods his agreement and allows Elrond to draw him down onto the bed, where the embrace of night awaits them.


End file.
